


Working Man

by lightbroke



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Dark Dean Winchester, F/M, SPN - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Winchester - Freeform, Winchesters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightbroke/pseuds/lightbroke





	Working Man

Rolling over onto your stomach, you sighed loudly in a poor attempt to get him to look at you. Bored out of your mind, you try sighing again, this time louder. "Babe..." You try, sliding your hand across the sheets and onto his thigh, dragging it closer to his waistband. "Baby." You deadpan, looking at him frustrated. Rolling his eyes, he purses his lips and puts the manila folder down. "You've been staring at that for hours, Dean." You sit up running your fingers through your hair. "The answer isn't gonna just pop out you know? If anything the words have probably blurred together by now." Crossing your arms, you challenge him, cocking your head to the side. 

"So?" He lets out a frustrated huff and returns his attention back to the papers, trying desperately to look for clues on where Abbadon could be hiding. 

"So..." You lick your lips while you straddle his thighs. Pulling the folder out of his hands gently, you set it on his nightstand. "What I'm trying to say is that," you drape your arms around his shoulders, scooting closer to him making sure to grind yourself against his lap in the process. "I want sex." You whisper, your cheek pressed against his. Sliding your hands down his neck and resting them on the middle of his chest, you blink your eyes wishfully corner of your lip nipped by your teeth. 

"You want sex while a rogue Knight of Hell is running loose doing god knows what while my blade is with Crowley?" Dean's mouth fell into a straight line, nostril's flared. Slightly alarmed you ease back some, moving your hands from his chest to your lap. Knowing that his cravings for Cain's First Blade were getting stronger, you grip the mark on his right forearm and squeeze it tightly. The hunter hisses, his first reaction to practically buck you off. Clenching your legs around him, you hold on until he calms down, knowing that this is usual and that the initial pain will subside as will the itch to grip the Blade. "Okay," he looked down at his lap, anywhere but you, embarrassed that he'd let it get the best of him again. "Okay." Dean repeated.

"Hey," You ease the pressure off his arm and lift his chin so he has to look at you. "I understand." Chuckling softly, you smile sadly. "Well I don't understand, but I'm here, okay?" Soft palms find the sides of his face, pulling him in for a kiss. 

Dean lets go of the bed sheet he wasn't even aware he had been clutching so hard, replacing the sweaty blanket with your waist. Pressing into you, allowing you to work him with your lips, he lets out a breathy moan. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into him to make the transition from sitting to lying down easier. Hovering above you, he leans on his right forearm, placed beside your head. Sliding his left hand down the side of your body, you close your eyes relishing in his touch. You couldn't quite understand how, but he made you feel like royalty. A simple kiss, touch, or look could make you melt in your leather boots and make you feel like a queen. "Mmm, Dean." You hook your hand into the collar of his shirt and pull him down. Rolling his body against yours you move your lips to the side of his and let out a dirty, lingering, moan. "Fuck..." You can feel his proud grin against your skin as he starts to move down your neck while maintaining a steady pattern with his hips. 

A gasp echoes off the walls of his room as you feel him gruffly cup your center, pressing against the denim of your jeans. "Dean!" You find yourself grinding against his hand, gripping the pillow behind you. 

"I love the way you move." He said, his voice lower. Darker and full of lust. Sitting up, you hook your legs around his and begin to grind against his lap hard. His eyes close and facial muscles relax as you begin to busily take off his belt and undo his zipper. Sneaking your hand underneath his boxer briefs, you allow your hand to replace the pattern of your hips. "Baby--" Dean grunts, his head leaning back as you attack his neck with sloppy kisses. "Oh shit," He breathes, pushing himself into your tight grip. "I'm gonna cum." He warns, trying to pull you off. "Fucking shit, babe--" Dean warns again, knotting his hand in your hair and pulling you back. Having found yourself lost in giving him pleasure, you look at him your chest rising and falling with exhilaration. It always gives you such pleasure to watch him unravel. "If you don't stop I'm gonna make a mess everywhere." He whined, his breathing beginning to hitch, lips parting. 

"Maybe I want the mess." You smile against his lips before running your tongue across his bottom lip. With his free hand, he pushes you closer to him, you and him becoming one. Taking each and every one of his grunts and moans, you begin to slide your hand faster, pressing the base of your thumb harder against his shaft. "Cum for me baby." You purr, leaning your head against his forehead. 

"Faster." Dean pants, his grip on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise. "Tighter." He grunts, his eyes beginning to roll back as ecstasy begins to work its way through his body: a tight contraction of his abdomen spreading down his legs and to the tips of his fingers. Up his spine and then back to his groin. Breathing hard, Dean's grunts start to get louder with each pump not even caring that while the walls at the Men of Letters Bunker were thick, they weren't that thick. "Oh FUCK!" The hunter's cry freezes as his orgasm takes control, forcing his lips apart and neck to lax forcing his head to fall backwards. You grin to yourself as his mess spills down your hand, having caught it before it reached his clothes. Using it as lubricant, your loosen your grip and lazily run your hand across his shaft. 

Chest struggling to find its usual rhythm, Dean opens his sated green eyes to see you cleaning his mess off your hand. Overcome with a fresh wave of desire, Dean tosses you to the back of the bed before taking his shirt and jeans off. "My turn." He grins wickedly.


End file.
